Allowing Space for Change

With its consistent 70's weather and scenic views even whilst sitting in traffic, San Diego could easily be deemed one of the easiest places to live in the U.S. Its been said that the "Honeymoon Phase" of a relationship can last two years; I am now 2 years and 3 months into my CA Life and perhaps I have closed out on the newlywed feelings with my beloved San Diego. I realize that my woes against SD are mostly personal, not because of SD itself, but mostly because of who I am and what I grieve while living here.

Anyone who knows my family is aware that we live on a hyper-alert for nostalgia. My brothers and I are quick to point out the songs, sounds, and smells that bring about these sentimental feelings of the past. We are often quoted for saying "I already have nostalgia and the trip isn't even over!" or "I still have nostalgia for last weekend..." We are a family that houses memories as identity; the fabric of who we are is wrapped up in the moments created in the past.

This is why from September to January, it is the most difficult time of year for me to live away from what I know. The childhood (and adulthood) memories of snow and hot chocolate and the giant Christmas tree at Macy's and that feeling of finding warmth by the fire after a day of sledding... I can't re-live these memories here. In fact, I don't even know how to celebrate Christmas when picking out a tree in 80 degrees and hanging Christmas lights in shorts. In a way, life here seems to falsify the season; it feels foreign to the extent that it has me longing for What Used to Be.

I recognize the stance that I often assume when thinking about What Was and dreaming of What Could Be. (Human nature - or just me?) I glorify the way things were and tend to think those were the best ways. I am learning to make space in my heart and my mind to recognize that it might have been the way I was raised, but it doesn't mean it's the only way. I am learning to make a New Normal here in San Diego. To notice the discomfort because it lacks feelings of nostalgia, it is void of memories that remind me of family and the fuzzy feelings of Christmas... but it doesn't mean it's wrong.

What if our new tradition is to go to the beach or watch the sunset or picnic or fly kites or watch the boat parade? Do I have space in my heart to allow California Christmas to be just as good? Is it possible that something so different could also, in time, begin to carry the same sense of nostalgia I often long for back in Chicago? I recognize that in order to live presently here, I have to grieve what is different, but also celebrate what is different.

It is truly a sense of contentment that I lack. Contentment is able to say that joy is not housed in a location or a place or a circumstance. Joy is knowing that God is with me on the journey. Do I believe He goes with me wherever I am? Can I look to Him in this season as the whole purpose? Am I willing to let go of what was to move towards what is? These are the questions I ask myself. Because when I look at Him - when I look at the Cross - I know that Home does not narrow down to a choice between Chicago or San Diego. Home is what we long for while we are here on earth, while we receive glimpses of it in our day to day. Home is also what I create with Benjamin, wherever we are. Can I be present to a new view of Home while living here in San Diego? 

So Far

As much as life is an adventure and each day there are glimpses of eternity when we have the awareness to be near to it; life also scares me in ways that I can’t fully comprehend and sometimes I feel like I just can’t keep up. I get frozen in the reality of how quickly life passes and I wonder if I am doing all I can to make the most of it.

I fear that time goes too fast – and in so many ways I still feel like that 22-year-old who just graduated college, or the 23-year-old setting off for a year in Spain, or the 24-year-old moving to the city with my very first teaching job, or the 27-year-old trekking off to the Camino, or the 29-year-old driving across the country to California, or the 30-year-old, newly engaged and planning a wedding (Okay, okay… that wasn’t that long ago!). The 20’s are gone, and I’m into the 30’s, but I now get why our parents say they still feel so young.

Benjamin and I have been married about 9 months now and life feels full. After much debate, we finally finished those lingering registry items – the stainless steel pans and our wine glasses with the pressure of Thanksgiving around the corner. We look back at our memories together, and it feels like we have known each other longer than 2 years if measured by the amount of travel we have done and the quality of relationships we have built – not to mention, we are one week out from being completely debt-free! It all seems like it has gone too fast. Life feels a lot less scary with Benjamin beside me, but when I look ahead at our years, it seems like a lifetime is hardly enough. 31 years of it have already flown by in a blink – what’s another 31?! What is the secret to slowing it down? We pull out our phones to capture the sunset or wine on the porch or bike rides on Adams Ave or cheeseboards in the park… but I wonder if this truly forges a sense of presence. It does, however, capture the story of Us and this is my favorite story to write so far.